


Breath

by chooken



Category: Westlife
Genre: Begging, Breathplay, Choking, Consent Play, Darkness, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Grinding, Hand Jobs, Held Still, M/M, Neck Kissing, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Standing Sex, Surprise Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-10
Updated: 2016-04-10
Packaged: 2018-06-01 09:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6513346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chooken/pseuds/chooken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shane would never hurt him.  Not even here, in the dark, Kian's heart pounding and a hand on his throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breath

It's dark.

Kian climbs out of the car, wondering why the lights haven't gone on. They usually do. It's an automatic thing when the door rolls closed. He feels blindly along the wall, reaching for the light switch. Finds it, hears a metallic click when he flicks it down, the lights staying determinedly off.

He sighs, continuing to feel along the wall for the door. Get inside, sink down on the couch, maybe spend some time with Shane. They haven't had loads together lately. It's been manic, and even when they are together there are so many people about it's not like they can be all over each other. He misses it. Soft, slow kisses and grinding against each other, necking like there's all the time in the world.

He finds the doorknob. Turns it. Bloody locked. He groans and starts to fumble for his keys, trying to find the right one in the dark.

A hand covers his mouth. He almost screams, goes to jab his elbow back reflexively, the keys dropping to the cement floor with a jangle. Another hand catches it then wraps around his waist before he can react.

“Shh.”

“Shane!” Kian jerks his head out of the hold, heart still hammering. “You scared the shit out of me!”

“Sorry.” He hears a low snicker. “Stay still.”

“Why?”

“Just...” The hand on his stomach drifts a little lower. Kian thinks he should be outraged. The hand on his mouth has drifted lower, stroking gently down his throat then back up. A finger trails along the top of his belt. He lets out a soft groan. Shane presses closer, and when he does Kian realises how hard he is. Stiff, insistent bulge against his arse. He presses back. Can't help it.

“Shay...”

“Stay still,” Shane breathes. Kian gulps. The finger slips under his waistband, a thumb helping it to flick the top button open. Then the zip. Sliding down too slowly, a little clumsy one handed. Kian is hard. A breath rushes hot and wet over his ear, gasping into his jaw.

The hand on his zip moves once it's done his job. Around to the back. Yanks the waistband back hard, then down. His trousers drop to his knees, trapping his legs. He wriggles them all the way to the ground. The hand palms over his hip, then across his groin, not touching.

“Oh, babe.” He hears Shane swallow. Echoes it, mouth too dry. There's still a hand on his neck. It tightens again, strong and firm. Not cutting off air. Shane never would. Would never hurt him. But it's there. Oh fuck, it's there, his throat cording into it while it squeezes gently, thumb stroking over his adam's apple then sliding up to the hinge of his jaw, turning him. Shane's tongue licks up the other side, teeth scraping back down his neck while the hand tightens again.

“Shay,” he croaks.

“Shh...” Shane soothes. Kian blinks into the dark. He might as well have his eyes closed for all he can see. There's a spill of light from the bottom of the garage door but it isn't enough to see by. Not nearly enough. Just highlights how dark it is.

He hears a clink, a rustle, then Shane is pressed to him again. Kian whimpers. Naked flesh, hard and grinding. Leaking a little and he doesn't know how long Shane's been planning this but his boyfriend is  _ready_. Hips dip, and Shane pushes against him. The hand on his groin slides around. Splits him. Shane settles into the gap, pressing, Kian's spine prickling when he feels the bulge of the head press against his hole. Hips dip again. Shane pushes. Kian moans, skin on fire.

“There,” Shane breathes. Grinding, leaking pressure. Oh god. The hand on his throat tightens. Some part of him wants it to tighten again, cut everything off. Not because he wants Shane to hurt him, but because he wants to know that Shane  _could_. That he wouldn't. Because Kian is safe. That Shane can take his breath and give it back and that that would be enough. That Shane would make sure it was enough.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please.”

“What?”

“Just...” He groans, hears a hoarse laugh. “Please.”

“Are you ready?”

He isn't. He isn't. Fuck.

“I...” He gulps. “No. Shane.” He wants to. Later. When they have time to do this properly, to spread Kian slow and pull him open. So he can see Shane's face when he pushes in. His favourite thing in the world. Dark eyes and parted lips, a gaze so intense he can feel it under his skin. Burning. But... “I can't, babe. Please.”

“Would never hurt you,” Shane promises.

“I know.” He closes his eyes and shivers when Shane pushes again. The hand's back on his groin. Kian's holding him tight, clenched between tense muscles. The other hand's still on his throat and  _Christ_.

“Would never,” Shane says again. They both hold their breath when the hand tightens. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” Kian gasps. “Yes...”

“Do you want me?”

“God yes.” The thumb strokes his adam's apple again. He feels vulnerable. Shane's thighs settle to the backs of his own, delicious friction and tacky sweat. He groans. Shane does too.

“Do you love me?”

“I love you,” Kian whispers. Shane licks up his jaw again. “Want to see you.”

“Later.” The promise is enough to go on. Later seems an age away. The hand on his groin drifts lower. Almost. Kian needs it. Needs to spit himself back. Needs Shane to just... “Mine.”

“Yours.”

“Mine.”

“Yes.” A finger trails down the top of his thigh. So close. Hooks gently into his sac and tugs. He garbles a moan. Shane snickers against his ear. Tugs again. Two fingers, walking up sensitive skin, caressing over the base of his cock and he is  _done_. Another touch and he's...

“Not yet.”

“ _Shane.”_

“No.”

“Unh...” He arches, Shane's just dipped lower and that one  _hurts_. A hard enough nudge to spread him just a little. To make him very aware of what Shane wants. Of what he wants Shane to take. He's not ready, though. Knows he isn't. Knows it would be a mistake, but god, the breaths against his ear are quickening and it's been too  _long_. Too long since it was something hot and horny like this and not just quickies banged out in the tourbus toilets. He needs.

“Come on me,” he gasps. “Please. I need...” Shane grinds again. Again. A rhythm, and god, if that hand on his cock doesn't move soon he might die. He twists, tries to push himself into it, tries to will a stroke from the clever fingers rolling teasingly around the base. Needs them to twist, to move up. Needs a caress somewhere more sensitive and he's just...

“Yes...” Shane hisses. “All over you.”

“Please.” The hand on his throat has loosened. It tightens again and oh. Oh. “Please please please...”

“So fucking tight.”

“Shane...” He could move his own hands. He could. Wrap one around his cock, fist the other one in Shane's hair and  _make_  him. But they're hanging by his sides and Shane is in  _charge_ , dammit. One clenches into a fist. The other one covers the one on his throat. Tightens it. He feels a rush of panicked arousal and Shane makes a choked, approving noise and bites his jaw. Squeezes, Kian's hand wrapped around his.

Shane slides. Fuck, Kian wishes they had some lube because the friction burns and objectively this can't be comfortable at all, not without slick. There's a trickle of something, though. A hot mix of Shane and his own sweat and.

“That's what you like?” Shane rasps. Kian wants to nod. He can't. Thinks he might find time to be embarrassed later when he can think and the dark isn't wrapped through more of his senses than he can stand. And oh fuck, he can't breathe. Dizzy and heart hammering and there's enough room to get a breath down he just doesn't think he can because Shane's own are harsh against his neck and the hand on his cock squeezes. Finally. Moves. Slow stroke from root to tip like he's being milked and precum trickling down to meet it.

“Ah...”

“Fuck,” Shane mutters. On the edge. Shane's so close. “Fuck, Kian. Do you...” The hand tightens on his throat and now he  _really_  can't breathe. “Do you know...”

“Please,” he croaks. Shane's thumb strokes his adam's apple to the same rhythm of the other one on the head of his cock. His eyes flutter, no difference between open and closed and he feels himself spread again, feels the nudge. Too hard. Too tight. Shane won't hurt him. Shane...

He comes with a choked scream, feels it vibrate out of his throat, tight and caught and he's gone. Eyes rolled back and he still can't see and he still can't breathe and if Shane doesn't let go he'll leave bruises and Kian never wants him to let go. Never, never, never, greying out and stumbling so far into release he doesn't want to come back. Jolting out of him until he thinks he might actually pass out and not because of lack of air but Jesus he's...

The hand lets go. He drags in a breath. Another. Jerks back and feels Shane jerk forward and hot, trickling heat and the hand on his cock is still moving, a squelching wave of heat and slick.

“That's it,” Shane croons. His hips snap. Kian wants to fall, but Shane is holding him. Tight and safe and Shane's. “That's it, love. So beautiful.” How Shane knows in the dark is beyond him. “So perfect. Mine. Always mine.”

“Always yours,” Kian gasps. “Always.”

“Mine,” Shane groans. A whimper, a growl, a sudden burst of slickness and he is full, Shane erupting and breathing hard and this is...

A sweaty forehead presses to his shoulder. He hears Shane shudder out a breath, feels them melt together, one collapsing forward and one sagging back until they're propping each other up. Their hands link together by Kian's hip. The other one strokes up his throat.

“Yes,” Shane whispers.

“Yes,” Kian croaks. He swallows. His throat hurts. Shane's dripping out of him and into his underwear and he doesn't care. “Inside?”

“Yes,” Shane chuckles. “Keys?”

“Yeah.” He bends to grab them. Shane playfully humps his arse. Kian giggles, reaching back a hand to slap him on the leg. When he stands arms wrap gently around his waist.

“Come on,” Shane says softly.

Kian nods, breath puffing out when Shane kisses his cheek.


End file.
